


Harry Potter Drabbles

by Archangel_Beth



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mostly humor, The last one's a little adult, should that be humour?, too tired to spell today
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18468781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Beth/pseuds/Archangel_Beth
Summary: Collecting my HP and HP-crossover drabbles. Crossover drabbles may be replicated in collections of drabbles for the other work.





	Harry Potter Drabbles

* * *

**Tired Owls**

_Dear Viktor, I hope you are well. This letter finds me in the midst of a love triangle, and I am not liking it. Miss you, H._

_Dear Hermione, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you're not involved? Can I help? Love, V._

_Viktor, I've got to find a way to tell my friends that they're just friends. Any ideas?_

_I could threaten to beat them up._

_I don't think that would help. Shall say I'm pregnant, but we got a stasis spell put on till after I graduate?_

_My parents will **kill** me. Sure. Take pictures. Love, Viktor._

* * *

**Toppling the Triangle**  
_(Celorial on LJ asked for a sequel to the above)_

"Look, you two... _Shut up!_ "

The two boys turned from their argument to look at the cause of it. (Well, indirect cause. She hadn't _asked_ them to figure out which of them was going to ask her to dinner.)

She stood, fists on her hips, glaring.

Ron opened his mouth first. "C'mon, Hermione, you've gotta choose _one_..."

"I _don't_!" she snapped. While Ron reeled at the implied threesomes, and Harry eyed him dubiously, she continued, "You're my friends, but you're acting like idiots. Besides, I'm already pregnant. On hold till graduation, naturally."

They stared.

She smirked and took a photo.

* * *

**Distant Kin**  
_(prompt by LJ's robotech_master)_

Crookshanks stalked around outside his person's house. She was inside. Sleeping, probably.

There was a hideous yowling, as of something being strangled but not quickly enough. Flattening his ears, Crookshanks trotted over to investigate.

On the back of a fence, a very fat orange and black tabby cat was yodeling its little heart out. After a while, windows opened, and various items were flung in the general vicinity of the noise.

A small, yellowish dog slunk around the base of the fence, picking up the objects. The good stuff was in one pile.

Crookshanks decided he rather liked their style.

* * *

**"The Force is strong within, you, boy..."**  
_(a short-short, not necessarily a drabble)_

 

The tall man looked down at the child. "The Force is strong within you, boy."

"I don't understand."

"You'll be strong in the Force, like your father before you. Don't turn to the dark side."

"My father? But... the Force? The dark side?" The child rubbed the scar on his forehead.

The man sighed. "Look, boy, you're going to be a powerful wizard when you grow up. Don't let the hat put you in Slytherin."

* * *

**The new DADA teacher**  
_(In Nomine crossover; blame incandescens)_

"I don't like this DADA teacher," Ron muttered to Harry.

Harry eyed Hermione. She seemed to be watching the teacher -- unusually, _without_ taking notes.

So were most of the other female students, and some male ones.

Oblivious, the teacher wrote his name on the board. "I suspect this will be an unusual approach to defending from dark magics," he said, swinging a large, black suitcase to the table at the front of the room and opening it.

"This," he said, "is a crucifix."

"What's that?" Draco pointed.

"A sword, in case the crucifix doesn't work. Now hush."

"Yes, Professor Laurence."

* * *

**Choices**  
_(Another In Nomine crossover)_

It was most unlike him. Slatterns walked in Diagon Alley -- but he was a teacher. He never indulged. He knew there were lust-potions, but he was an _expert_ in potions, and not so easily snared. (As if any would try.)

But a look from deep-green eyes. A smile. A beckoning finger. He had followed her up her stairs, tongue-tied.

Physical release brought emotional release, weeping into her dark hair, until he floated, empty and curiously free.

Before he left, she kissed the mark on his arm. "We make our choices, and choose what makes us." He nearly loved her then.


End file.
